PENETRATE (The Portals of Time Book 1) (11 page)

“You think to disobey me, lass? Now? Before all? It’ll be the last—!”

Neal interrupted him. “Enough! Control yourself, Dughall. We’ve a lady in our presence.”

“Ainslee’s nae lady, Straithcairn! She’s a lazy slut with naught for a recommend, and even less to redeem her!”

Ainslee gasped. Neal reeled backward a hairsbreadth. He wasn’t the lone one. He sensed movement throughout the ranks of his Honor Guard about him. Shock ran his veins, sending an icy sensation. It annihilated any remainder of his lustful impulses as he realized the extent of abuse Ainslee had suffered. No wonder it hadn’t left scars. Verbal abuse rarely did.

The man’s clan didn’t appear to have the same sentiment as their laird, however. Neal noticed they were starting to desert. Men were slipping from the room, and the hall looked less crowded. Neal narrowed his eyes, lowered his chin and then his voice, and when he spoke he made certain this announcement projected through the room, and out into the hall.

“As most of you know, I came here to arrange my future marriage with a daughter of the MacAffrey laird. I did this due to an agreement that binds my hands. We are all agreed on this? Can I get an ‘aye’?”

There were some sounds of agreement, but her father shushed it with a wave of his arms.

“Aye! We are all agreed. Of course we are. But come, Straith. Reconsider. Look at who you’ve chosen. Ainslee is a…well. I have said all I will a-boot it. You should wed my Lileth. I am na’ the lone one thinking you’ve lost your eyesight, as well as your sense. Most are in agreement with me. We’ve even drunk to it.”

Nobody said anything for a bit. It was as if his words had to settle and get considered. Neal lowered Ainslee to her feet, but didn’t release her. He swiveled her to face her father. The back of her braided crown reached his mid-chest. Then, he wrapped his other arm about her and pulled her to him. It was meant to look like an embrace. He knew he’d achieved it when the laird’s face darkened to a dark red color again. And then Neal spoke, making certain nobody misunderstood.

“Well, Dughall. I do believe I’ve changed my mind.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Oh, dearest God!

The duke’s statement sent a shard of agonizing pain through her chest. For a fraction of time, Ainslee didn’t think her heart could absorb it and continue beating. Nothing had ever hurt this badly.  

Ever.

She dropped her gaze to the floor beneath her, and fought waves of misery that brought overwhelming sobs with them. She shook visibly. She hated that. The duke’s arms flexed about her. She would have flung them off if she had any chance of success. The way he’d enwrapped her made everything so much worse. His arms were looped just beneath her breasts, holding her so closely he probably experienced every thump of her heart against his forearms. Each one carried anguish. She couldn’t escape any of this, and it just kept getting worse. She started crying. Absolutely nothing halted it. The floor beneath her blurred. A tear slipped down her cheek. Another. They started dripping off her cheeks, and each one felt like it scalded.

“Well. It’s a-boot time! I’ll have Lileth fetched.” 

Her father’s voice had changed markedly, as if a magician had waved a wand, altering the laird’s mood into one of satisfaction and joviality. He almost smacked his lips. Ainslee’s shoulders sagged. Not a whole lot, but enough the man holding her must have felt it, for his hold tightened even more. She pulled in and held breaths that shuddered.

Why did she have to lose control now?

And why in front of everyone?

And why, oh why, hadn’t she just let Lileth deal with her own future?

“You misunderstand me, Dughall. I have not changed my preference of bride. I chose your daughter, Ainslee. I’m well satisfied. I merely wish to...shorten the length of our engagement. Considerably.”

“What?!”

Her father’s voice carried the same sense of stupefaction that hit her, as well as everyone else in the room.

“You heard me. I came today to betroth a bride. Very well, I’ve done so. Now, I find myself, for lack of better word, longing for more. And I want it sooner.”

“S-s-sooner?”

Her father stuttered. She’d never heard such a thing. Ainslee sniffed. The duke’s arms tensed about her again.

“Very well, Dughall. I’ll be blunt. I want to marry your daughter. And I don’t want to wait. Right now. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Well...I wouldn’t wish you to think my request is due to any worry over Ainslee’s health or safety, should I leave her in your care for a fortnight. I’m simply…well...I’ll just state it. I’m a bit eager for a consummation.”

“Your grace!”

“Straithcairn!”

Several exclamations rang out through the room. They swallowed Ainslee’s gasp. The duke had shocked just about everyone. She blinked, sending another tear down the trail on one cheek, and then watched it drop onto the velvet of his jacket sleeve. She narrowed her eyes on the spot as it got absorbed, and then she stopped any others from joining it. She couldn’t believe it. The Duke of Straithcairn was saving her. Saying words of nonsense, but the result would be the same. She needn’t stay a moment longer beneath this roof. He was a very good actor, too. He was fooling everyone. His words continued to amaze and astound. Even she found him believable.

“So. What say you? Does Clan MacAffrey have anyone here with the authority to preside over a wedding ceremony?”

“Surely, you are na’ serious?”

Her father expostulated. His voice sounded unsure. The duke chuckled.

“Really? Don’t I sound serious?”

“Come, your grace. ’Tis a fine jest, but I’m a fair bit stewed at present. As are we all. We’d best repair to the chieftain room and further discussion.”

Her father was wrong. They weren’t all stewed. The duke’s reply didn’t sound the least bit drunk. He sounded irritated. Provoked. Angered. Ainslee watched where his arms were linked about her, and trembled at a menace she could feel.     

“I tire of repeating myself. You find an official right now or – Iain?”

The duke swiveled slightly to his right.

“Your grace?”  The man beside him answered.

“There’s a law in this country, isn’t there? Something about declaration being as good as the event. It’s still on the books. Legal. Binding. Yes?”

“Aye. That, there is.”

“Good.”  The duke moved, turning back to face her father. “Well, Dughall. Your choice. Which is it to be?”

“Now, listen here, Niall Straith—”

The duke interrupted her father. “I am not used to being thwarted, MacAffrey. Or delayed. Or ignored. And I’ve
never
had my vision and mental capabilities questioned. I’m not allowing it to continue. I’d rather wed your daughter with an actual ceremony, but I’ve exhausted my repertoire of niceties. I’m finished with speeches and toasts, and delays. Therefore, I’m invoking the Law of Marriage by Declaration, or whatever it’s called. I. Neal–ahem.
Niall
Alexander Straith, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare myself wedded to Ainslee MacAffrey, second daughter of Laird Dughall MacAffrey, and she is wedded to me. Does that work, Iain Straithmore?”

“Aye, your grace.”

“Good. Your turn, sweet.”

Sweet.

He’d just called her sweet.

For a moment, that’s all she registered. He lifted her and at the same time bent to touch his lips to her ear, causing an instant blizzard of shiver, and an ocean swell of heat.

“For pity’s sake, lass – speak up!”

Ainslee lifted her head and cleared her throat. “Oh! I…also declare myself wed. To…uh…his grace. The Duke of Straithcairn.”

“Neal Alexander Straith.”  He listed the name for her.

“Aye. Him. Straith.”

There was a bit of chuckling at her statement. It matched the bubbles frothing within her, making her feel buoyant and light, and giddy. The duke answered. He also sounded amused.

“That’s close enough. You all heard us?”

There was a chorus of ‘ayes’, and some loud yelling that could mean anything, and then the duke swung her fully into his arms, cradling her right against his chest. Ainslee shut her eyes and put her nose against his neck, just above his collar. The area vibrated with his next words, this time spoken so loudly, they were heard above everything else.

“There! ’Tis done. We’re wed. And what has been proclaimed let no man put asunder, and all that jazz! Now, we’re leaving! Laird MacAffrey? My thanks for your hospitality. My wife thanks you, as well. Iain!”

“Your grace?”

“Make a path for us. Alert any clansmen still capable of walking. Find the bard, the
bladier
fellow
,
and the pipers. Oh! And fetch a plaid for her grace. ’Tis a powerful cold ride, and I’m beyond waiting for feminine frippery.”

“Frippery?”

She spoke around an odd sensation no one had warned her of. Everything on her was singing. Rejoicing. Laughing. She was afraid to voice anything, in case the combination of blissfulness erupted.

“You’re leaving with me now, Ainslee. Right now. You’re not fetching a shawl. You’re not packing. You’re not leaving my sight. Got it?”

She nodded, the motion rubbing her cheek against his collar.

“You can ride, can’t you?”

She pulled her head back, opened her eyes, and glared up at him. He winked.

“Oh. Hi there. Glad to see you’re not fully cowed. I was worried for a bit there.”

If he mentioned he knew she’d been crying, she might never speak to him again. He didn’t. He walked between bookcases to the library door, marched down the hall, and jogged down the wide staircase leading to the great hall, an Honor Guardsman at each side the entire way. Masses of Straith clansmen poured from everywhere to surround them. The duke was tall. She knew that. She just hadn’t realized the extent of it. He stood above most of his clan.

“Thank God! Here comes a man with a bit of plaid. I may have to set you down, wife. You ready?”

Wife
. He called her wife.
Oh, my.

“Well?”

“Why would na’ I be?” Ainslee asked.

“Feminine nature. Womanly weakness.”

“I would have you know I have never been weak, your grace. Ever.”

“You may wish to portray it. And, please. It’s Neal. Gentlemen! Find other chores than hanging about me. See to preparing my horse. And you!”  He used the arm at her back to point at someone. “You look fit. Sober-ish. Can you get to Straith Castle? See to...whatever needs to be seen to?” 

He waited a few moments and then bent his head close to hers. Ainslee could sense movement about her, but she didn’t truly see it. Her vision was entirely filled with him.

“Now that we’ve a bit of privacy, we can speak. Make it quick-like. My Honor Guard are not slackers. We’ve a few moments before they’ll return. At best.”

“I’m na’ weak, and I’m na’ prone to feminine faints. Or whatever you are suggesting,” she told him.

“Ainslee. You just took part in a wedding that will gain no small measure of notoriety. Such a thing could be enough to cause female vapors.”

“I
am
a Highlander,” she informed him.

He looked away from her, out the open door, still holding her well above the floor. Ainslee heard and smelled moisture. A downpour.

“It’s raining,” he informed her.

“I’m na’ afraid of rain.”

“Only an idiot travels on a night like this. Astride one horse. And with a woman in his arms.”

“But, you’re no idiot. And I’m full waterproof. Wait. Did you just say…one horse?”

He glanced down at her and winced, before looking out again. “Aye. That’s all I brought. His name is Dragon-something-or-other.”

“Dragonheart?”

He shook his head. “No. That doesn’t sound right.”

“Dragonbreath?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Good choice. He’s well-trained. Large at the withers. Strong. Stands almost eighteen hands. Na’ the slightest bit skittish, either. Even to a thunderstorm.” 

He smiled slightly, but kept looking out into the elements. “Can you control him?”

“Easily.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“We are about to make a grand exit. I’d hate to ruin it by falling off the horse. Think of the embarrassment.”

“But, you are a fine rider. The best! Everyone kens that.”

“Really? Consider this a forewarning, my dear. I took a blow to the head. It...changed me. Whatever you might have known...is probably altered.”

“But I hadn’t seen you for years! Afore this morn, I mean. I recognized you, though. Na’ that I was visiting with you afore you left, though. You were near grown, and—well. Um. I mean—” 

His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. Ainslee was blushing, but she blazed through the rest of it, anyway.

“I was verra young...when you left.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Your grace? I...need to be thanking you.”

“For what? And please. It’s Neal.”

“I ken what you just did. I only wish I knew proper words of gratitude to use.”

“No words necessary. It was the plan, remember?”

“Aye. But not this. And...you should set me down now. I do na’ believe any would note it.”

“Oh, yeah? Well...maybe I like holding you.”

She lifted one eyebrow and regarded him. He was looking at something over her shoulder and wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“I’m na’ dense, your grace, albeit that is my father’s opinion. I know you said all that to save me. It was brilliant. I think it fooled everyone.”

“It’s Neal. And I’ve got news for you, Missus Straith. I am not that good of an actor.”

“But I still thank you. Most sincerely.”

“I don’t want your gratitude! Damn everything! How long does it take to prepare one horse?”

He shifted her and yelled the last words out into the elements.

“I can walk,” she offered.

“Ainslee. Please. I’m in the middle of a grand exit, trying to portray an impatient bridegroom here. The least you can do is play along.”

“What would you wish me to do?”

Her lips were pursed throughout the question, and she watched him touch a glance to them and then away. The bottom of his face went a mottled pink shade. He didn’t have a beard that might have hidden it. Ainslee watched it happen.

And wondered.